"Triumph may be of several kinds. There's triumph in the room when that old Imperator, death, by faith he overcome. There's triumph of the finer mind when truth affronted long advance unmoved to her supreme. A triumph, a temptations bribe be slowly handed back one eye upon the heaven renounced and one eye on the rack. Severer triumph, by himself, experienced who pass."
-Emily Dickinson.
Fifteen Years since the rise of the Empire.
~Unknown POV~
The sounds of excitable shouting filled the spring air, followed swiftly by the sounds of panting, running, and laughing. The Living Force was there upon the grounds, joyous and lively as it racked through veins and hearts granting spirit and righteousness as eagerly as it gave new life.
The Unifying Force did not take such active participation. Though it was there, wise and contemplative, stringing the friendships and loyalties of life together in its endless tapestry. The field where the sounds originated from was large, square, bursting with life and fresh grass.
The field was carved into one side of the magnificent sculpture which acted as home to the Jedi Order, the new Jedi temple on Ilum IV. The Temple was still under construction, though after a year of hard work and healing from seven long years of misery, the Order had managed to build most of it up from the ground, as regal and grand as the previous one, though less… Sophisticated.
No more were the sweeping halls and high-tech computers that suggested a military base. Now this temple was softer, almost caring in its regal stance. More home-like. The grassy field was as of yet empty of anything but two woven net goals on either side, and a few trees which had grown while the Jedi were not paying attention.
And it was also the scene of a wicked battle.
"Pass the ball, Solo!" Luke Skywalker, now nearly fifteen years old, demanded of his friend. His chiseled face and dirty blonde hair, so much like his father's, was glistening with sweat. The game had gone on for longer than usual. His face glowed with competitive fervor.
Han Solo, at the tender age of sixteen, looked up from where he was surrounded by the enemy, and made the logical choice; he kicked the ball to the more aggressive twin.
"Let em have it Leia!" he hollered as he made the pass, finding himself suddenly surrounded by the rugged enemy kicking with great focus at the precious object near his feet. Luke's twin appeared from the mass of writhing bodies that had surrounded her like a missile, shooting from the center with all the rugged violence of said weapon.
Glossy, chestnut hair flew behind her like a banner waving in the breeze. In a second, Leia had positioned herself in front of the ball, and kicked it ahead of her. Behind, the other team followed her every move as determinedly as tracker droids searched out their quarry. Leia glanced around with deep brown eyes, and grinned when she found an ally waving and flapping her arms urgently from the sidelines, trying to get Leia's attention.
"Mara! Heads up!" She yelled.
And the fiery angel of justice was there next, rising out from the golden sunlight of midmorning as if she had a chariot beneath her feet carrying her on the currents of the Living Force. Without delay, Mara had positioned the ball beneath her feet and was speeding on her way.
"Oh come on!" yelled the adversaries of the other team, though not without laughter.
"Go, Mara!" The encouragement came from Lando, who was suddenly running at her side as defense from other prying feet into their intended goal. Mara executed a few neat corkscrews that could never have been attempted with a starship, dodged beneath flailing arms of her enemies and quickly side stepped outstretched feet before skidding to a stop and kicking the ball as hard as she could with her right foot.
The multi-colored projectile flew through the air with the violence of a tornado and even as the Force cheered it on, landed violently within the safe confines of the net.
Their battle thus won, six players of one team executed various celebratory twists and dances as they yelled as one "GOAL!" and the others burst into laughter. From off the field, a few cloaked pedestrians, some strong within the Force and some others not with a lick of Force sensitivity in their veins, clapped and chuckled accordingly.
"Whoohoo! Kicker-ball champions!" Han yelled, throwing an arm about Luke's shoulders as he threw a fist into the air triumphantly.
"One of these days we'll learn not to let you all on one team!" One of the others laughed good-naturedly as he bent over gasping, hands on his knees.
"One of these days," Mara snickered; she patted her pretend enemies on the back as she passed them on the way to their teammates.
"Good game, guys!" She called to the general assembly. The call of good-sportsmanship was taken up by most of the others. The Force danced, peaceful and light. Some wondered off the field, called away by the pedestrians for work, and others towards the freshers or cafeteria, smiling and talking as they had not been able to before they all met.
The six kicker-ball champions stayed in the middle of the field in a circle long after the others had left, conversing softly before they began to depart together towards home.
Across the Galaxy:
~Anakin's POV~
There was a fish above him for some reason.
Granted, despite growing up on a desert planet Anakin knew his fish. He was also relatively sure that he had seen this particular fish before. The creature staring down at him through a vision that was blurred with aching headache, had so much emotion in his eyes that Anakin instinctively found himself feeling guilty for the attention paid him. Attention that he did not deserve.
He was an ex-monster after all, newly breathed into the chasms of the Light and clumsy within. He was now a stumbling infant, frightened and awed by this world, but mostly terrified of the individual power he felt inside of him.
Power to destroy… or balance… Worlds.
"Anakin, can you hear me?" The fish was talking. Anakin wrestled himself from the fuzzy warmth of unconsciousness to answer.
Anakin's guest's blurred face melted into a resemblance of relief for a human; really all it did was make his eyes grow larger. "Thank goodness! General Skywalker, can you hear me?" The present snapped back into place with the long practice of a warrior's quick adrenaline. Anakin gasped a bit as he was shoved from unconsciousness into the bold and bright realm of reality.
He gasped and tried to sit up, but a roaring pain made the world spin again. "No, sir! Your side is still healing!" Admiral Ackbar-for that was who his memory said it was, quite inconveniently late-ordered gruffly. Anakin didn't need any other advice; he settled down and waited a moment for the numbness to sink in.
"Where… Am I?" He asked looking around. He saw walls made out of metal and durasteel, cold and bleak, devoid of color.
"Onboard my ship," Admiral Ackbar answered, sterner than was his wont. Anakin idly wondered what he had done this time, and whether anyone would actually, finally, punish him for it. He craved the punishment. Every day now. "Recuperating from your injuries. That was a brave thing, what you did," Anakin struggled to recall what exactly he had done. Then, it came back to him.
He had been on the Empire controlled planet of Malastare, freeing the enslaved population from the mine shafts where they worked to procure more resources for Darth Sidious. He had infiltrated the ranks of slave-masters becoming an overseer in the wretched process, then subtly encouraging revolt until one happened. The revolt had swiftly turned into a massacre as the angered free slaves had turned on their masters. The last thing he remembered was trying to keep the peace before being abruptly stabbed in the side by an unseen adversary.
A damn good shot, too, he thought, rubbing at the stitches which held his injury intact.
"I can claim little credit," he replied to Ackbar's compliment. "The Force was with me," the fish snorted.
"Then your Force is an idiot, because what you did nearly got you killed. What were you thinking?" Anakin gently placed a hand on his wound and attempted to sit up again. He did so, with pain that he embraced and released into the Force with a shuddering breath. His over-taxed muscles protested, and he was reminded by his aches that it had been several days already since he had last slept.
"I had to free the slaves…" he huffed in meager reply as he sat up, aided by the admiral. He took a closer inspection upon the room, and found himself the sole occupant of a medical bay room he raised his brows, flattered by the obvious courtesy and favor.
Usually when he woke up in med bays there were up to six people in one room, and he knew that if the Admiral had been out here for a few days then he must have accumulated some weak and wounded warriors. He stretched out his senses, hoping to catch wind of their whereabouts. Perhaps he might do something to help…
Ackbar's face became emotionless and severe. "You had to make another one of your bold reconciliation attempts, you mean," Anakin scowled. He did not want to talk about this right now.
His expression must have told Ackbar so, but the experienced war veteran only scoffed. "Don't pretend to believe you'll get any such mercy from me, Skywalker," he informed him ruthlessly. "The entire galaxy knows what you're doing. How long has it been since you've been to Yavin IV, hmm? Little under a year?"
Anakin blinked, surprised at the harsh estimate. He had been keeping track in his head. And he had not been away for more than…A year. Anakin blanched as he realized that the Admiral was right.
It had been little under a year since he had last seen his family, and communications between Yavin IV and him had been sparse. He called only to let the Council know where he was every so often, and to check in with Padme and the twins, but otherwise...He could have been dead and no one would have marked the date.
He missed them all terribly. So terribly he felt as if his heart might burst from it. What must they think of him? Would they hate him even more for abandoning them again? Which is only what I deserve, he thought to himself dejectedly. This was the reason he had not been to Yavin IV in years, because whenever he convinced himself to take a short vacation there this happened.
His mind and his heart and his past rebelled, knocking him from the precarious and dangerous balance he had constructed for himself out of extreme, ultimate service. A service which discounted everything but the present moment and the present crisis.
Anakin sighed. "You know why," as the Admiral said, the entire galaxy knew about what he had done. It had been broadcasted on every holo-vision in the known galaxy. Several times by now. "Have you heard from them?" He wondered.
The Admiral face did not change at all as he crossed his arms, soberly. "What do you suppose I do? Sit down and have talks over tea with them?" his harsh words were belied by the Force that told Anakin that he was only worried for the strong, confident man he had once known. The old Anakin Skywalker. The good one.
The one before the monster Darth Acrasus.
"Jedi do love tea," he pointed out, softly. His mind flashed back to the numerous times he had sat down with Obi-wan and drank it. When he was younger he had hated the stuff. Then again, when he was younger, he had hated most everything Obi-wan made him do.
Ackbar snapped two webbed fingers in front of his face, drawing his attention back. "You've been out cold for three days and more than that you've neglected your family for too long. We're going back to Yavin IV," a brief shock of pure dread rippled through his body. Anakin stared at Ackbar, wide-eyed.
However, he could not think up a suitable rebuttal to the other man. Even if his heart ached with what he might have to face, what right did he have to decide where he wanted to go and do? He had practiced being a slave for so long-to so many different people and emotions-that servitude should come easily to him now.
"I see," He whispered, sinking back against the pillows. He stared at the ceiling, mind churning with words that he might say to his wife, his family, his children… Yet what words could possibly be enough to account for having been away for so long?
Ackbar must have seen his trepidation. "Anakin," gently, the water creature sat on the edge of his bed. His large eyes were now compassionate, understanding. "I know what it is to do a bad thing to save your family," he said softly. Anakin turned his eyes to the other man.
He frowned sympathetically. Count Dooku had fooled admiral Ackbar into spying against the rebellion he loved in return for the lives of his family; a family that ultimately Dooku had slaughtered anyway.
"I know that it takes a long time to forgive yourself; but… Anakin, forgiveness such as you need can't be earned. You can't save the entire galaxy with your bare hands and expect the guilt to go away," Anakin stiffened at the all- too familiar advice. That was exactly what Mace had told him before he left the last time.
Then what am I supposed to do? His soul lamented, desperately. What else do I do, what else am I but the Chosen One? I'm not a Jedi, he had failed too spectacularly for that. I am not a Sith, he never wanted to be again. So what else could abate the guilt and shame and anguish?
What else but service could strip his soul clean of the dark?
"You have a family," Ackbar leaned forward, large globular eyes sad. "They love you, Anakin, but if you keep doing this…" he shook his head.
"You'll lose them forever," Anakin wanted to snort past the tears that were lodged in his throat. Hadn't he already? When he succumbed to the Dark Side, he forfeited all claim to anything Light. His family was Light Side incarnate, the very quintessence of the luminescent lifestyle. He was a stain, a plague on them.
He was unredeemable. The least he could do was stay as far away from them as possible, so as not to drag them into his dishonor.
Not that his opinion mattered. They were going to Yavin IV anyway. Crossing his arms, Anakin looked away to hide his shame and fear. Ackbar sighed wholeheartedly and patted his leg once before standing. Silently, the respected leader took his leave.
Once he was gone, Anakin fell back into his pillows, suddenly wearied beyond comprehension. "You'll lose them forever…"
Perhaps that was for the best.